


In This Together

by idelthoughts



Series: Tumblr Ask Box Fic [11]
Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3827737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idelthoughts/pseuds/idelthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waiting to find out what their kidnappers want may be difficult, but at least Henry and Jo are in it together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Together

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on my tumblr for the prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _Henry and Jo end up in the same bed somehow, but just end up timidly snuggling instead of doing anything outrageous. (pre-canon mortinez)_

Jo put her shoulder to the locked door and slammed against it again. It rattled, but not even a hint of give. All she got out of it was another twinge in her bruised shoulder, which was starting to feel like tenderized steak from all the pounding. She leaned against the door and rested her forehead against it, trying not to let her frustration get the best of her.

“Jo, it’s not going to work. You might as well get some rest.”

Henry was lying on the mattress in the corner of the room as he had been for the last fifteen minutes while Jo beat herself against the door like a moth on a street lamp. 

“At least I’m still trying,” she said through grit teeth.

“That door is reinforced and well barred, judging by the timbre of the wood each time you smack into it. You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

“If we both—“

“Jo.” Henry sat up, crossing his legs and setting his hands on his knees. His expression was serious. “Tomorrow is another day. But if you are bruised and ill-rested, we’ll certainly not have a fighting chance when next they open that door. Now, I suggest we both get some sleep while we can.”

His opining done, Henry lay down again on his back, crossing his ankles and locking his fingers together across his chest. Jo glowered at the barred door, not sure if she was angrier with Henry or herself. Neither of them deserved her anger—better to save it for the bastard who’d locked them in here. They hadn’t been killed, only grabbed while looking into their latest lead. Best indication they were getting close to the truth, but it didn’t do them much good right now.

“I don’t know how you can think about sleeping,” Jo said, coming to sit on the corner of the mattress. She tucked her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She didn’t want to say it out loud, but somewhere out there their captors were arguing over what to do with them. There was nothing saying it wasn’t going to be a summary execution at any point. Hard to sleep knowing your fate was most likely a bullet whenever they finished arguing.

“This mattress is new,” Henry said, tilting his head to look at her. He waved a hand towards the corner where there were two buckets—one water, one empty. “While not a luxurious solution, that’s clearly meant for us and our basic needs. They intended to keep us, for a little while, anyway. This was planned, not spur of the moment.” He rolled to his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “Jo, we still have a chance. Now, rest. Please.”

Jo finally let herself listen and lay down on the mattress next to him. It was queen-sized with plenty of room for both of them. Henry was right, for however little had been granted them, it had been planned. She rolled on her side and curled an arm under her head as a pillow, facing away from Henry. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Maybe she could fool her body into thinking everything was fine.

She listened to Henry’s soft, even breathing. He seemed perfectly calm, somehow. She tried to match his pace, hoping it would moderate her own, but she couldn’t make her heart stop racing, even as tired as she was.

“We could play Twenty Questions,” Henry abruptly said into the silence.

Jo startled at his voice, which showed how on edge she was. She took a deep breath to get hold of herself. She didn’t know why, but it surprised her that Henry even knew the game—he seemed curiously blank on most things cultural, and kids’ games fell into her mental category of Things Henry Probably Doesn’t Know. Maybe even he had fun as a kid. But of course he’d go and pick Twenty Questions.

“I’m terrible at that game,” she admitted. She rolled onto her back, shuffling so she didn’t crowd Henry. “I always lose. I used to think it was my brother cheating, but then I started making him write them down, and it turned out I was just bad at it.”

Henry chuckled softly, and shifted onto his side to face her.

“Not what I’d expect from a detective.”

“Yeah, har har. I’ve heard that many times from him already, thanks,” she responded wryly. “Antonio thought it was hilarious.”

“Older brother?” Henry asked.

“Him, yeah. He’s two years older.”

“You have more than one brother?”

“Four. One older, three younger.”

“Large family,” Henry said, raising an eyebrow. “Must have made for a busy childhood.”

“Yeah, always a full house.” She shifted to her side and propped her head on her hand. “What about you? Any siblings?” 

Henry blinked slowly, and she could almost sense the step back he took from the question, and she braced herself for one of his usual non-answers that said less than nothing. Instead, he nodded.

“Three. A sister, two brothers. I was the eldest.” 

Was. The word stood out like a beacon in the midst of his statement. Past tense, full stop. Henry’s unfocused gaze returned to her, and he drew a deep breath, wincing apologetically when he saw her expression. “Sorry. Long story.”

Weren’t they all, with Henry? She put her hand on his arm, which rested on the mattress between them, and patted it. When she moved to withdraw Henry caught her hand in his and squeezed it.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he said. 

It was deeply earnest, said like a vow, a commitment, his fingers tight around hers. For all that she was trained for this kind of danger, and had spent over a decade standing between murderers and innocents, it was reassuring to feel someone cast their protection over her. Except—well, it was Henry, so while the thought counted for something…

“I’ve seen you throw a punch. I think maybe you’d better stick behind me.” She smiled to soften the tease, and it was enough to break Henry’s mood, his serious expression morphing into a self-deprecating smile.

Holding his hand felt reassuring, and perhaps he felt the same way, because he didn’t let go. Eventually she started to feel tired and relaxed enough to doze. The room was a little chill, and as her body cooled, she shivered. A tug and a shift, and Henry shuffled closer to her, putting his arm over her. It was enough to pull her back to wakefulness. Henry paused, suddenly hesitant.

“You were cold,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to—“

“No, no. It’s okay. Thanks.” 

She settled back, and after a brief deliberation she wiggled closer, until her head was tucked under his chin. It was a little awkward at first, with his arm around her and hers stiffly folded between them, but eventually she put one arm over his waist, bringing them into an embrace. Henry’s sigh was warm in her hair, and he rubbed her back briefly before his hand stilled. His heart was pounding noticeably. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t let them hurt you either,” she said. 

Jo’s words were muffled against his shirt collar, and she could feel his silent laughter that never quite vocalized. She meant it to be a joke, and he took it as such, but it in her fatigue it was more heartfelt than she intended. He fell silent, and then began to rub her back again. It was soothing, and she started to drift off again, warmed by Henry’s body.

They’d protect each other, and there was comfort and safety in that knowledge. Whatever happened, at least they were in it together.


End file.
